Unsolicited Advice
by donutsandcoffee
Summary: When going for a trip to America, Haruhi met a unique blue-eyed teen by the name of Alfred. But there was more about him that she didn't know yet; for a start, Kyouya knew him… /America x Haruhi x Kyouya. Slight USUK and Host Club x Haruhi./
1. One

**Unsolicited Advices  
**

**Author: **donnutsandcoffee

**Word Count: **1,734**  
**

**Fandom: **Axis Powers Hetalia and Ouran High School Host Club

**Pairing(s): **Obligatory Host Club x Haruhi. America/Alfred x Haruhi x Kyouya. Slight US x UK.

**Summary: **When going for a trip to America, Haruhi met a unique blue-eyed teen by the name of Alfred. But there was more about him that she didn't know yet; for a start, Kyouya knew him…

**Warnings: **None so far.

**Disclaimer: **Axis Powers Hetalia is Hidekaz Himaruya's and Ouran High School Host Club is Bisco Hatori's. There.

**-X-**

**One: An Encounter, an Introduction**

**-x-**

Haruhi Fujioka would never believe this.

One day she was Haruhi Fujioka, everyday teenager and student. Today, she became Haruhi Fujioka, devil's favorite plaything, member of the Ouran High School Host Club and, by some cruel divine intervention, was dragged to the United States of America.

Yes.

Maybe some of you would question the use of the word 'cruel', but really, when all you wanted to do in the first day of holiday was to sleep all day and your self-proclaimed 'family' suddenly barged in to your house in the early mornings, dragged you into a limousine, handed you your passport that you never knew existed and practically threw you into a plane for a 10-hour flight, really, cruel was an _understatement_.

Not that she was angry at them, though. From experience, she knew that they meant well, and no matter how hard she was trying to get her point across that _No, _it was not appropriate to do that to her and _Yes_, she _was_ angry, she could not help smiling as she watched Tamaki and the twins arguing whether they should put tomato ketchup like usual or mustard to be more 'American', whatever that was.

However, she couldn't really enjoy the trip either, at least not now. It was the first month of the year, and even though in Japan the air had started to warm and the flowers had bloomed, in America, interestingly, the air was still freezing despite the inexistence of snow and the wind was strong. She was unprepared. She shivered, hands desperately squeezing her only protection—her thing blue jacket.

The argument between the group had escalated with the introduction of mayonnaise by Mori and Honey, and not wanting to get into problems in a foreign country, she sighed and strolled away from the group, burying her hand in her pockets hopelessly to find warmth. At times like this, she usually approached the (most of the times) only sane man, Kyouya, but somehow the bespectacled teen went missing—_wait, since when?_—and she ended up looking around alone.

Her mind started to wonder. Her body started to relax as she remembered that the seafood sale was next week instead of today as she'd suspected, but soon the imagination was interrupted by a voice.

"So, what do you think about America?"

The owner of the voice—whoever he was—had a very unique voice; his Japanese was fluent, as if he was accustomed to speaking and listening to Japanese, and yet his Western accent—_is there such a thing as American accent?_ She wondered—was strong. Startled, she quickly turned to see the owner of the voice—

_Blue_. It was the first thing she thought when she saw him: blue. The owner—a bespectacled teen with blond hair, now she found out—had a very clear, mesmerizing blue eyes. She was captivated—not only because she rarely saw blue eyes, but his eyes had something different in them—a spark, a childish enthusiasm like Tamaki's and yet depth, a certain edge that draws you in like Kyouya's—

—ah. Kyouya. She didn't want to think about him now.

"Er, I'm sorry…" she tried, unsure whether or not to use English, which she was not really good at, and ended up with a stuttered Japanese, "y—you are…?"

The teen smacked himself on the head. "See, you forgot to introduce yourself again!" He said, presumably to himself as it was in English (she felt slightly proud for understanding that), then smiled at her warmly.

"Jones, Alfred F. Jones," he introduced himself, offering her his hand, "and I'm a hero! Of course, heroes always had to make sure that everyone—including this beautiful Japanese woman—enjoyed her time in his homeland!"

She would've considered him as a flirt and walked away if she didn't realize that his emphasis was on '_homeland_' instead of _'beautiful woman'_ like what Tamaki always did. And he didn't seem to have any ulterior motives… "Fujioka," she muttered, shaking his hand, "I'm Haruhi Fujioka…Jones-san."

He frowned in disagreement. "Jones-san? What's with those formalities?" He smacked her back lightly, "call me Alfred."

"Okay, Alfred…san."

He pouted. "You sound exactly like my best friend. Must all Japanese be so polite?"

She couldn't help giggling at his pouting face. She didn't know why; she understood perfectly the danger in giving her name to strangers, moreover in foreign countries like America, and yet, as the boy—_Alfred,_ wasn't it?—grinned and started to show her around, she felt her skepticism and defenses melted together with her heart, and before she knew it, she had followed him. Out of interest, maybe.

Alfred reminded her of Tamaki, she reasoned as the teen waved exuberantly, and she had to admit she always had a soft spot for that idiot 'king'.

"Alfred-san," she said at one point, right after he'd bought her a chocolate-chip ice cream despite her fervent refusal ("you haven't been to America if you haven't tried our ice cream!") and asked, "how come your Japanese is very fluent?"

His eyes flickered—the way they always did every time he talked about his friends, she realized—and he grinned wider, "my best friend is Japan!"

Refraining herself to correct him that It should've been 'Japan_ese_' instead of just 'Japan', she continued, "what's his name? Is he studying in America now?"

She thought she saw him pause for a while, as if he'd said something wrong, but it was quickly replaced with a warm smile that mad her sure it was only her imagination.

"His name is Kiku," Alfred told her, "Kiku Honda. He got stuffs to do in Japan, so he stays there, you can say, but he visits me quite a lot of times! Though it's been quite some time since we met as we had this little argument…"

At that, he trailed off for a while, his expression fell, but he then continued cheerfully, "but we're the _best_ of friends! We like to watch horror movies together," he stopped then started to look around nervously as if a ghost would suddenly jump out from a non-existent corner, "speaking of ghost, yesterday I watched this scary movie about a woman with four arms…"

She wanted to point out that a four-armed woman would look funny instead of scary, but seeing his scared face, she decided not to.

He really looked frightened, like a child who'd just listened to horror stories, and before she knew it, she had raised her hand, reached out to him and patted his head.

"It's okay," she smiled reassuringly, "there's nothing to be afraid of."

He looked up at her, "Fujioka—"

"Haruhi?"

She felt her heart skipped a beat when she heard the familiar voice. She pulled her hand too quickly from Alfred and—again, too swiftly and coupled with a trembling voice—she turned to the person, "Kyouya-senpai?"

And she was right. There, Kyouya stood, hands on the pocket of his black, bulky, it-worth-more-than-my-house-times-two jacket. She ever so quickly approached him, smacking herself mentally for stumbling, and grabbed the edge of his jacket.

Realizing that she might be squeezing a tailored jacket worth hundreds of thousands yen, she anxiously looked up, "ah, sorry senpai—"

She froze in shock. Kyouya's eyes were colder than ever, and they were not looking at her. It was steady, and she followed where he was looking and astounded to see, out of all people, Alfred.

A chill ran down her spine as Kyouya spoke, voice as cold as ice, juxtaposing his earlier tone of slight concern when calling Haruhi's name.

"Jones."

But before she could question or even react, Alfred already replied cheerfully, "Ootori!"

She gulped. No surprise, Kyouya glowered after hearing his name being called so happily by the American. Only Tamaki dared to call him with that kind of tone, and even that was when Kyouya was _not_ glaring. What surprised her was the fact that Alfred, instead of seeking safety from the Wrath of the Shadow King, beamed at the aforementioned Shadow King, as if he didn't realize the other was throwing daggers at him.

Surely no one could be this dense?

Kyouya, ignoring her completely now, approached Alfred. Now, really, even though she kept saying that her English was atrocious, it was not _that_ bad—she actually could understand simple everyday conversations in English. But of course, when was the last time Kyouya, or the Host Club members as a matter of fact, took part in simple everyday conversations?

Kyouya and Alfred started talking to each other in English, and Haruhi felt her head become dizzy from being bombarded by the multitude of unfamiliar English expressions and jargons. She heard the occasional "Japan", "America", "Ootori company" and even "Suoh", and she could recognize some words like "boss" and "England", but other than those, she was completely clueless. She even mixed up some words that she was quite sure Kyouya said "how was England?" in which Alfred replied with "haven't met him in a long time," which would not make sense at all.

So she gave up after a time. She looked away, thinking where to go next, until suddenly, she felt warmth on her right hand—

Kyouya was holding her hand and pulling her away. "Let's go," he stated in a half-offer half-order, and she felt the coldness from touching Alfred's hair was gone, replaced by the unexpected warmth of Kyouya's hand that travelled along her arm and jolting the senses of her entire body—

"See you later, Fujioka!" She heard Alfred call out, and she turned to see him as they walked away.

"Okay!" She called back, ignoring the fact that she might never meet Alfred anymore, "and it's _Haruhi_, Alfred-kun!"

Alfred grinned widely at that, but she could no longer see it clearly. Her heart was pounding loudly, and she swore there would be a trace of pink on her cheeks. She forgot coldness; her face was warm and she couldn't think clearly anymore.

Kyouya was still holding her hand.

**-X-**

America looked at the two retreating figures until they disappeared into a corner. He sighed, flipping his cell-phone open and pressed the numbers he'd memorized so well. He knew the person he was calling now wouldn't like his tea time interrupted, but he couldn't wait until three-thirty passed in London. He listened to the dialing tune of his cell-phone.

_Pick up the call, England…_

**-X-**

**a/n: **Yes, I hope it's not as confusing as I thought it was. Both of the fandoms are not A/Us, which means the nations are still nations. They pretty much choose their own names.


	2. Two

**Unsolicitied Advice**

**Word Count: **2,687

**A/n: **thinking of changing the title, hm….

And fear not, I have actually _prepared_ a plot for this. Enjoy!

**-X-**

**Two: a Date, if You Want to Call It That Way**

**-X-**

England's favorite time is, undoubtedly, tea time.

When the grandfather's clock in his parlour struck three, no matter how sour was his mood, a smile would find its way to his face and his body would, instinctively yet professionally, make his favorite earl grey tea with his tea set. He would then sit down on his green armchair, sipping slowly from his tea, letting the sweet taste of the tea touch the tip of his tongue.

Today was no exception. England was about to take another sip from his porcelain cup when he heard the song _Star Spangled Banners_ being played by his cell-phone. Such atrocity! An American song could even exist in his phone… yet this would mean only one person calling him, someone self-centered and brave enough to set a special ringtone for himself on _England_'s cell-phone, maybe hoping that he wouldn't realize the change or most probably just to spite him. He reluctantly put his cup down and answered the call.

"Alfred?"

He could hear America scoff from the other end of the line. "Come on, _Arthur_, you seriously aren't going to call me that, are you?"

England scowled. Such manners… Where did the 'hello' and 'how are you' go nowadays? The youth these days, so ignorant, so disrespectful… "I was just joking, _America_," England snapped, yet corrected himself as requested, "but really, why are you calling me now? I've told you I'm coming there soon."

And England truly didn't lie this time. He really was planning to go to America's place and in fact, he'd been planning to since he heard the news about him and Japan. He'd had his fair share of information, true, but nothing beats the story from the person involved himself, and it was not an option to approach Japan now…

"Well, I wanted to tell you that I met Fujioka Haruhi, but," America sounded uninterested now, and England could just _see_ him shrugging, "I guess if you're not that interested, see you tomorrow—"

"What?" England interrupted, raising his voice and jumped to his feet, his free hand slammed his wooden table and his cups clattered loudly, "you met _Fujioka Haruhi_? But—" he looked at his cell-phone screen for a second, making sure that America was indeed at his place, "—_bloody hell, America, how_?"

He could hear the pride in America's voice. "I'm a hero! Of course I can meet her! I mean, it couldn't be just coincidences that she and her gang just _decided_ to visit my place—I don't know yet, but I have a theory—It must be some hero senses that I have, pulling her to my place and—"

"Her gang?" England cut him off again before he started talking about the 'heroes senses', whatever they were, "you mean you met Suoh?"

A slight pause at the other end of the line. "Actually, I met Ootori…"

_Great. Just great. _Out of all people, it _had_ to be Ootori. England started to suspect some kind of magic taking place here. Maybe he really should've checked that certain book of curses and spells again… He slumped back to his armchair, no longer felt as comfortable as before. He tapped the edge of his wooden table, sighing audibly and trying to regain his composure.

Then he started, "so tell me the details…"

**-X-**

Three days. She might look as uninterested as ever, but inside, Haruhi Fujioka mentally praised, hailed, and contemplated on throwing a celebration party for herself for staying in the United States of America for a grand total of three consecutive day.

Three. Consecutive. Days. Staying in a foreign country and _surviving._

_With the Host Club._

A party sounded extremely appropriate.

Humming to herself ever so softly, she walked down the corridor of the hotel in search for its restaurant, taking note of the beautiful wallets on the display at one of the stores in the hotel. One of them had taken her interest, and she thought of buying her father one …

…until she remembered how Ranka Fujioka just laughed from the other end of the line and told her that he'd been part of the plan, wanting 'my daughter to stop dating with text books and start looking for a real man' after she called in panic, afraid that her father was looking for her.

She stopped herself from releasing a long, audible sigh. Her father was over-reacting, and his mind was already polluted by the Host Club. It was not as if she did not take interest in boys _at all, _she thought indignantly to herself as she approached the table where the host club was sitting. She was just good in hiding it. Very, very good.

Kyouya looked up to see her and greeted, "good morning." Surprised from both seeing Kyouya waking up so early and greeting her, she blushed.

Maybe not _that_ good.

"Haruhi!" Kaoru called out in a louder voice and quickly stood up to approach her, "good morning!"

Before she could react, the boy had put his arm on her right shoulder. Not that she minded, not really; maybe she had already gotten used to the close proximity. She could feel another weight added to her left shoulder, and she didn't need to turn to know that it was Hikaru.

"Good morning!" The other twin greeted too, "where do you plan to go today?"

She scratched the back of her neck. "Er… I thought all of you had planned everything?"

"Well, today we were supposed to be visiting Disney Land…" HIkaru started.

"…but Milord decided to wake up late today," Kaoru continued.

They finished together, "…so we decided to go without him today!"

The twins were now grinning widely, eyes tinkering in mischief and hands in the air as if they had just announced the greatest breakthrough in the history of humanity.

Haruhi's eyes instinctively moved to Kyouya and gave him a look, a look that screamed 'help'. As much as she thought that Tamaki was annoying, she did not have the heart to just leave him like that. Maybe Kyouya could do something…

Fortunately, Kyouya took the hint. "Hikaru, Kaoru," he called the two of them, "it's too early to decide. We should just wait until around nine. And Haruhi…" he gave her an empty transparent glass, "could you help me get the juice from that corner?"

Mumbling "I'm not your servant" under her breathe, she snatched the glass from his hand and sauntered to said corner, uncharacteristically annoyed. His nerve! When she had just been happy to see him, he chose that very moment of happiness to ruin her day by ordering her around. Those rich bastards!

She almost dropped the glass when a very familiar voice commented, "what's with the sour face?"

She did not, of course, drop the glass. But not so much because of self-

She froze in her spot.

She didn't quickly reply, finding herself at a loss of words, and she turned slowly, trying not to expect anything and yet very well _knew_ who the person was. She saw a blue jeans, a T-Shirt with American flag on it, and—

_Blue._

Alfred Jones was grinning widely at her.

**-X-**

"Haruhi! You really _really_ have to try these sweets—"

Haruhi refused politely and Alfred smiled mischievously, and before she knew it, a sweet was popped into her mouth.

"See, nice, isn't it?"

Haruhi knitted her eyebrows to show disapproval at what Alfred had just done, but the expression did not stay long—her eyes widened in surprise and she brought her hand to her mouth.

"It's…nice," she admitted. At that, Alfred flashed her another grin, his white teeth seemed to sparkle under the sunlight.

How could she end up in this situation?

Haruhi had to admit, despite her unwillingness and stubborn attitude, she was not the hardest person to be pulled around. Years knowing the Host Club had taught her this; the fact that she was in _America _now itself was the hard evidence that she was, admittedly and unfortunately, easy to be dragged around.

And so, she couldn't so much say a word when Alfred quickly dragged her out of the hotel. Alfred had decided that sour faces in America was _illegal_ and he, a _hero_ as he was, had to make sure no innocent people like her were convicted! And going by that impossible-to-understand logic, _of course _Haruhi must now undergo a heroic journey that would put a smile on her face, saving her from imprisonment!

But as she followed Alfred whom exuberantly pointing at the nearest shelf, she thought, as ridiculous as it sounded (which is _very_), that was kind of…sweet.

A second after she thought about that, a not-so foreign feeling struck her.

She stopped on her track in shock and quickly looked away, but she wasn't fast enough—Alfred tilted his head in confusion.

"Haruhi… why is your face… red?"

"I—uh—" she paused and, for a lack of better word, pointed at a sculpture outside the candy shop, "—I had never seen such a statue! It looked interesting…"

Alfred's eyes sparkled like a child seeing his Christmas presents. "Let's go there!"

Before Haruhi could react, Alfred had held her hand and dragged her out. At this, she felt another weird feeling in her stomach.

Alfred… was a nice person, she concluded. He had such a positive attitude he could brighten people's darkest days. He was a bit dense, maybe, judging from the oblivious smile he gave to the blushing girls and women they walked past across the street, but she understood that he meant no harm; in a way, he reminded her of the Host Club members, especially Tamaki… and especially not Kyouya.

Kyouya.

She had wanted to ask Alfred about how he knew Kyouya, but she felt it would just ruin the beautiful day, seeing how their relationship didn't seem to be the best. She still got chills when she remembered how intense Kyouya's glare at Alfred a few days ago…

This feeling now, though. She had to do a double track. It was not love, of course. She almost scoffed at the thought. Here she was, together with a stranger she barely knew, and she even _contemplated_ of falling for said stranger.

"Haruhi, look, aren't those flowers beautiful?"

Alfred's words brought her back to reality; they had somehow ended up in a beautiful park, and the bespectacled teen was pointing at a group of red flowers she couldn't recognize; maybe this type didn't grow in Japan…

With that, they walked around the park, chatted lightly and laughed occasionally.

Sometimes, Haruhi reminded herself of comfortable silence she shared with Kyouya every peaceful evening after the Host Club closed, the cold, rare smile of Kyouya.

The memories melted slowly with every loud chatter and comments by Alfred, her heart thumping as she felt the warmth of Alfred's ever-present grin.

She couldn't help smiling back, and when they found a wooden bench, Alfred quickly jumped and sat on it. Haruhi followed.

"And Alfred F. Jones the hero, once again saves the day!" He exclaimed proudly, earning stares from some passerby who might have wondered why a blonde teen would suddenly be shouting in Japanese.

Haruhi chuckled. "Alfred F. Jones…" she murmured, "what does the F stand for?"

Alfred smiled, but Haruhi saw mischief flashed in his eyes for a split second, and he now looked suspiciously similar to both Hikaru and Kaoru when they either wanted to or had already pulled a prank on Tamaki. The only thing that made Haruhi still comfortable was the fact that Alfred's mischief was more of a five-year-old's than a nineteen-year-old's—innocent, _playful._

"It's actually a secret," he said easily, and Haruhi couldn't guess whether he was joking or not, "because heroes are _supposed _to have secrets! But you are special—" Haruhi felt something inside her stomach turned upside down— "I shall tell you _this_ secret."

Much to her surprise, Alfred leaned down and, still with a playful smile, held her shoulder and whispered to her ear softly, "the F in my name," another pause, a slow intake of breath Haruhi could literally _feel_, "stands for…"

"Alfred?"

Alfred stopped. He turned around too quickly, and Haruhi felt it was a bit too quickly, just like when she was being called by Kyouya…

"Eng—_Arthur_?"

**-X-**

America couldn't believe his ears. Nor his eyes. He blinked once, twice, and just for the sake of it, thrice. What he saw didn't change.

England was standing before him.

_England._

His bushy eyebrows, his green eyes. Undoubtedly, it was England. Complete with his trademark green vest. Which looked nice on him.

But he digressed.

"England!" He repeated again once the fact that his ex-brother was _there_ finally sunk in and, didn't even bother to speak in Japanese or even calling him by 'Arthur', America stood up from the bench, jump over it and rushed to the older nation. "Why are you here?"

"I told you I would come, didn't I?"

"But—but! You've never said that you would come _this_ early! Man, I could've prepared something—"

"Is that Haruhi Fujioka?" England interrupted, ignoring the other's outburst.

His green eyes were now fixed on the girl whom, in confusion, did not even realize her name was pronounced by the thick British accent.

"I—I'll tell you later about this," America wanted to smack himself for stuttering, "but really, you could've told me you were coming today, England…" he trailed off, instinctively scratching the back of his neck nervously, fighting the unidentified warmth that crept up his face, "I mean, I could've picked you up and all that instead of walking around like this. I mean, not that I—just—"

"Oh, just sod off," England raised his voice, but despite his words and his tone, his face also started to redden, "I'm fine by myself."

"It's still dangerous for you to go alone."

At that, England raised his thick eyebrow.

"Wait, haven't I told you also? I didn't come here alone…"

**-X-**

Tamaki Suoh was _devastated._

He had wanted to have a honeymoon, he meant, a _holiday_ with Haruhi in the United States of America for a long time. He had been _dying_ to!

And instead of yet another wonderful, _romantic_ day with Haruhi, today he woke up late—him! Waking up late!—and to make things worse, before he could even walk a complete ten steps, the twins had barged into his room and started showering him with words, from which after a few seconds he could finally understand that it meant "Haruhi was missing."

It took another few seconds before a light bulb appeared in his head.

And then, it exploded.

"HARUHI!" He now wailed, eyes filled with tears as he searched around the hotel for the petite girl. What if she was kidnapped? What if someone appreciated her beauty like he did and decided to make her his daughter? NO! Haruhi was _his_ daughter! He couldn't let anyone harm her!

"Haruhi, where are you…" without realizing, he had talked in French, his mother language. Maybe because he couldn't think properly anymore. Kyouya had tried to calm him down, and he could see the teen was busy on his phone since then, probably calling the local police to look for Haruhi. But still, Tamaki couldn't find solace from it. Haruhi—his lovely, beautiful daughter—was missing!

He started to imagine Haruhi, helplessly crying because she was lost in the big, vast country of USA, calling out his name desperately.

He almost broke down into tears again before his mind 'theater'—involving Haruhi wearing a long dress and crying "Tamaki-senpai, my hero, save me!"—was suddenly interrupted by a deep baritone voice.

"Excuse me?"

Tamaki paused.

He slowly turned to see a man with fairly long, curly blonde hair that seemed to sparkle beautifully under the sunlight, wearing an all-in-all fashionable clothing that actually seemed out of place right now, since other people only wore t-shirts and shorts.

Still enraptured by the man, Tamaki remained speechless. But there was no silence, as the man immediately spoke very fluently in French:

"Excuse me, _mon dieu__,_ have you seen a man with very bushy eyebrows around here?"

**-X-**

**A/n: **Enter, France! XD

I realized the previous chapter was very… short. And too fast-paced. So I tried to slow things down in this much longer chapter. Enjoy :)

And, I have _no_ idea in which part of America are they in, for those of you who wonder. I live on the other side of the world. Suggestions are welcome.

The confirmed pairing so far has been America x Haruhi x Kyouya, but I can't help adding the Tamaki x Haruhi bits and Host Club x Haruhi bits. Oh, and I also forgot to mention, aside from USUK, there might be some Tamaki x Kyouya… and some Russia x US… and some US x Japan…

I'm off.

Reviews are much appreciated. :D


	3. Three

**Unsolicited Advice**

**Words Count: **2,978

**A/n: **THIRTY FOUR REVIEWS? ARE YOU GUYS CRAZY?

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! I have been really caught up with real life events that I couldn't ignore so I decided not to surf the internet for a while. Also, I'm kind of falling into a new fandom (How I Met Your Mother! Neil Patrick Harris! …ahem) so I had a specific writer's block for this story.

Anyways, I'm really, really shocked by the overwhelming and surprisingly positive reviews for this story, so thank you! I will try to update more often XD

Extremely late update is extreme late. BUT! MUCH LONGER CHAPTER. Y/Y?

And. Desperate attempt to thicken the plot yay?

**-X-**

**Three: Fated Meetings and Conspiracy Theories**

**-X-**

"_Why are you crying, little boy?"_

_The boy, purple eyes wet with tears, looked up slowly to the owner of the soothing voice. The owner was a man with a calm smile and beautiful, _gorgeous_ hair, and the boy slowly stopped crying. The man smiled wider at this development, walking to his side and gracefully sitting down on the grass field, right beside him._

"_It would be a sad thing if a handsome boy like you is crying on such wonderful day like this in France," the man started talking again in French, "pray tell, boy, what has hurt your pristine heart?"_

_The boy's eyes widened in amazement. To be honest, he only understood some of what the man had been saying—his French wasn't that good! But there was something in the man's smile that calmed him._

_He never liked to talk about this condition of his, much less to a stranger, but before he knew it, he had blurted, "My mother."_

_The man turned to him now, fully facing him, his curious expression urging him to continue. "My mother," the boy continued in stuttered French, "she is sick again. I thought she was getting better but yesterday she couldn't get up from the bed. I… I don't know what to do…"_

_The boy could feel his eyes started to water again, so he rubbed them with his hands. The last thing he wanted from this kind stranger was pity; he was sick of seeing the looks from the adults—the baker across the street, the mailman who delivered the newspapers every morning—everyone. Crying, of course, wouldn't help._

_He was surprised when he looked up and saw that the man look genuinely hurt. He was even more surprised when he patted his head and smiled._

"_Well," the man said, his smile unwavering, "I don't think your mother would feel better if she knows you have been sad for her, right?"_

_For a lack of better words, he nodded._

"_I have a solution for you!" the man said cheerfully, and much to the boy's surprise—produced two stems of bright red roses out of nowhere. The roses were beautiful, to say the least; the thorns had been scalped off and the flowers seemed to have just bloomed. It was red, bright and vibrant, and he couldn't take his eyes off them._

"_Flowers are a language by themselves," he explained. "If it is so hard for you to say a word to express your feeling, then don't."_

_He handed the boy the roses, whose eyes were now wide in amazement, "let the flowers speak for you. Red roses like these, for example, mean love. Give them to your mother and she will understand."_

_The boy nodded excitedly. "Thank you, sir…?"_

"_Bonnefoy. My name is Francis Bonnefoy."_

"_Well, thank you, sir Bonnefoy!"_

_The man chuckled. "Call me Francis," he said, "and remember… all girls, not only your mother, __**love**__ flowers! Always give flowers, and girls will line up to sleep with you! Invade their vital regions!"_

_The boy blinked. "Sleep? Invade?"_

"_Uh… never mind," Francis patted the boy's head, quickly changing the topic. He got carried out a bit just now. "Now off you go. Give your mother the flowers and send her my regards. Hopefully she's going to get better."_

_The boy stood up and beamed at him. "Thank you sir! Thank you!"_

_He was already down the hill before Francis realized he'd forgotten something. "Hey, kid!" He shouted at the tiny figure, "what's your name?"_

_Fortunately, the boy could still hear him. He turned and shouted back._

"_Suoh! My name is Tamaki Suoh!" _

_And before Francis could say anything, Tamaki was already too far away for his voice to reach. So Francis only shook his head and smiled to himself. Tamaki Suoh… from the name, it was obvious that the boy had a Japanese blood in him. He chuckled at the image of the boy._

_Interesting…_

**-X-**

Haruhi Fujioka was lost.

Admittedly, this was not the first time she was lost; in fact, she had been lost so many times in the last couple of days in this humongous foreign country it was _ridiculous_, but never had she felt so lost without anyone to ask. In the previous situations, there would be the either the twins or Tamaki to accompany her and translate her questions to the people; this time, though, her only companion was Alfred, and said Alfred was now talking animatedly—not to mention _fast_—to a stranger. In (presumably) _English_. Which she could not understand.

It did not help that the other man replied in a very weird accent that was even harder to decipher.

At some point in their conversation, Alfred blushed, and Haruhi became really curious. She was not usually a person who liked to find out about other people's businesses, no, certainly not; but now Alfred—the _dense_ Alfred, the most oblivious man she had ever met—was blushing, and damn if she wasn't curious why.

A little voice inside her head supplied a completely ridiculous reason: _the man must've asked whether the two of you were on a date, of course. _ She blinked. _WHAT. _What had she just thought? She chided herself for even _thinking_ of such a ludicrous scenario.

Yet she felt the heat crept up her face due to that particular suggestion, and she decided she had to interrupt, however important their conversation was. She needed a distraction from her stupid thoughts, before she started thinking about things like 'crush' and 'love', or people, like Kyouya—

—oh, well. Too late for _that_. Not that she minded much anymore; she had been fighting a losing battle in trying to keep a certain bespectacled host from invading her mind.

But she still had to take the two foreigners' attention, so she decided to walk up to them, mumbling, "uh…"

Both of them seemed startled by her presence, as if they—including Alfred—had forgotten that she was there (and not that she was _hurt _or anything by that, no, not at all—). The stranger turned first at her.

"I am so sorry, miss Fujioka," he said apologetically, his Japanese coated by a very, _very_ thick accent, "I didn't mean to disturb your… _date_ with Alfred."

There was seriously something wrong with her blood vessels now. Why did she keep blushing? "It's okay, I don't really mind. I presume Alfred-kun has told you my name, mister…?"

The man's expression was of surprise, and then relief as if he had successfully gotten away after making a mistake. "Ah, yes, of course—Alfred just told me about you," he said hastily, "and Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland."

He offered his hand for her to shake, and she grabbed it. Much to her surprise, Arthur knelt down and kissed her forearm.

This time, there was no denial. Haruhi blushed furiously.

Alfred chuckled at her reaction, "Oh, look what you've done, Artie, you flirt."

"Don't call me 'Artie'," Arthur stood back up and hissed, though Haruhi could hear that there was no venom in his voice at all. Alfred only laughed.

Arthur started explaining about his relation with Alfred, but Haruhi's mind wandered.

There were two things about this Arthur that Haruhi had noted from the five seconds it took to scrutinize him from top to bottom.

Firstly, he had… _prominent_ eyebrows, for a lack of better words. Haruhi had never been so unsettled by others' appearance—she barely cared about _hers_, anyways—but really, _look at those eyebrows._ They looked like _caterpillars_!

Okay, she digressed. That's one fact; secondly, he looked so at ease around Alfred. Though he looked so prim and properly dressed, Haruhi could see that his overall posture suggested that he was comfortable knowing the other blond was around; not to mentions they seemed to stand closer than necessary to each other, their shoulders almost touching…

However, before she could come up with any conclusions, her train of thoughts was interrupted by an extremely familiar voice.

It was high-pitched, annoyingly whiny but endearing.

"_HARUHIIIIIIIIII!"_

-**X-**

Haruhi Fujioka had decided that if anyone—including but not limited to: her father, the Host Club, her classmates, the clients, her geography teacher, the fishmonger that liked to give her 10% discount and his wife whom always scold him for that (well, these were really the first people that came into her mind)—ever told her that the United States of America was, in any way, _big_, she would kindly correct them that _yes_, it was a very common _misconception_. Because it really was. "The United States of America is big" is a blatant lie.

Because if this country was big, _how the hell could this even happen?_

First, she could meet Alfred again, despite one not knowing where the other stayed. That fact itself had strongly disproved the conspiracy of the size of the USA. Then, Alfred happened to meet this Arthur, whom she assumed was the same Arthur person Alfred liked to talk about. Half-brother, and supposed to be living across the ocean—another fact that strongly suggested that maybe USA was only slightly bigger than a small island with two coconut trees because _how the hell could they easily meet one another like this?_

And the third, signifying evidence…

"HARUHIIIIIIII!"

America? Big country? It's okay, we all believed that once. Fear not, the America-is-Large-Phase would pass, just right after the Santa-Claus-is-Real phase.

"Ta—Tamaki-senpai?" She stuttered, looking incredulously at the fast approaching senior, "why are you—how did you—"

"This must be love, Haruhi!" Tamaki cried out, running animatedly at her with dramatic tears flowing from his eyes, "the power of love from you resonated with mine that my feet and heart just brought me to you!"

Haruhi wanted to say that it was scientifically impossible, and that there was no direct relationship between human's heart and the synapses that moved our feet, but she must first do one important thing: avoid being crushed by an imminent bear hug from her senior.

_Dear mother in heaven,_ she thought silently as she stepped back, _what the hell is happening now?_

**-X-**

The first thing that came into England's mind at the situation was: _poor child_.

Haruhi had been clearly lost. America must have dragged her all over the place, 'showing his awesome home' or something equally silly (he shuddered at the thought of knowing the American so well), without realizing that maybe Haruhi would want to stay close to the people she actually knew instead of, well, _an American stranger_?

But there was an upside from America's obliviousness. England now had time to ask _Haruhi Fujioka _herself about the entire situation. That would save him a lot of time—he might be able to hear the full story without America's introduction about his heroic role in the story (which were usually _longer_ than the actual story, dear lord, he still remembered the time when he tried to ask him about the Korean War).

But as most of England's plans these days, it was interrupted.

"_HARUHIIIIIIIII!"_

The second thing that came into England's mind at the situation was still: _poor child_.

He didn't expect Suoh's interruption. The teen seemed to appear out of nowhere, much to England's surprise. But then again, neither did Haruhi. And she was obviously irritated by this; her face went from surprise to annoyance in split seconds and now she was evading a bear hug from said senior.

She managed to evade the first hug, and the second, leaving Suoh tumbling awkwardly. But he didn't seem to take a hint; England presumed he just thought "I was calculating Haruhi's distance from me wrongly", and England started comparing his stupidity with America's.

Really, did this world need _two_ of these idiots?

And Haruhi wasn't so lucky anymore. The third hug was coming, and before she could find where else to evade, she stopped in her track when she heard another voice. Another _familiar_ voice to England.

It was high-pitched, annoyingly whiny but endearing.

"_ENGLANNDDDDDDD!"_

The third thing that came into England's mind at the situation was: _poor me._

**-X-**

Kyouya Ootori had lost his mind.

He didn't think it was possible before this—_the_ Kyouya Ootori, third son of the prestigious Ootori family and smartest student in Ouran High School? _The_ Kyouya Ootori, leader behind the famous Host Club and the Shadow King? _The_ Kyouya Ootori, 'losing his mind'?

He was _so _putting the blame on Haruhi.

That… _commoner_. Walking around as she liked without informing anyone. Didn't she know how dangerous would that be? Didn't she know that the Host Club didn't have as much influence in America as much as in the Japan? Didn't she know how worried he was? Didn't she—

—_Whoa. Wait. _Worried?

He was… _worried_? About _Haruhi_? He tested the idea in his mind. Yes, he was certainly worried about Haruhi.

These past few months, he'd spent a lot more time with her, he now realized. Since the mid-year exam was coming, Haruhi had been staying late after the Club, while Kyouya, being Kyouya, also stayed late. And the rest, as they say, is history—in fact, it had come so naturally that he didn't realize it happened.

On the first day, she sat at the other sofa in the room, and Kyouya continued typing into his laptop. He barely batted an eyelash when she murmured, _good night, Kyouya-senpai_, and closed the door slowly to avoid making too much noise.

And then she started a conversation. A line or two. And then _he _started initiating conversation when she didn't, and she started doing work at the same sofa as Kyouya's because _really, _it was just about convenience, not to mention it made him easier to teach her when she had difficulties in answering a question, or when they had to share some food.

By the day before the exam, they were sitting side by side in comfortable silence.

Kyouya blinked at the sudden revelation. _Huh_, he thought lamely, and made up his mind. He _had_ to find Haruhi as soon as possible, before something—_anything—_could happen to her, and he had to make full use of his contact. Even if he had to call that person.

He punched the familiar numbers into his phone.

"Hello, Mr. Kiku Honda? This is Kyouya Ootori."

**-X-**

""This is boring,"" the twins declared in unison.

Hikaru Hitachiin had never been so bored in his life.

Okay, that was an exaggeration, but it really was rare to find him bored. Usually he would have something to do; pulling a prank on Tamaki, harassing Haruhi… well, the two were practically his source of entertainment. The two who, now, were both missing.

Kaoru looked equally bored, and he finally snapped.

"I can't take it anymore!" He announced and, after telling Kyouya the he would _go out, but not too far away, promise, of course I'm not lying do you think I'm Milord that is an insult you know,_ he ran to the garden outside the hotel.

Kaoru followed him as he asked, "Hey, do you have any idea where Haruhi is now?"

"No," Hikaru shrugged, "but I believe Kyouya-senpai would find her—and Milord—in no time."

Kaoru looked at the sprawling green field. "Yeah," he said, "I think you're right," and his eyes suddenly lit up, "hey, do you see that thing?"

Hikaru looked at the place where Kaoru was looking, and grinned when he realized what it was. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Kaoru's grin slowly crept across his face, matching Hikaru's. "When am I not?"

Little did they know, two people behind an overgrown bush had found them suspicious. One of them was tall, his silver hair glistening under the sun, and his red eyes narrowed at the sight. He gestured to his companion who was smiling—who had been smiling for _god knows_ how long—and pointed at the twins.

"I think they're trying to ruin our pranks," he whispered, and his brown-haired friend shook his head.

"See, I told you, it was too obvious. We shouldn't have used that," he sighed, and the silver-haired man glared at him.

"Look, France is the one who's good at this whole 'subtlety' thing, okay?" He hissed, then returned his gaze to the twins, "And now that he's suddenly missing, all the job lies with me. And you know me, I'm all about awesome theatrics!"

The brown-haired one shrugged. "Well, now that we're busted, time to approach those boys, no?"

Red eyes widened, as if to say, _you're ridiculous. _Then they narrowed again in an act of defiance, and after a full minute of staring contest, he nodded in defeat.

"Alright, Spain, you win. Let's talk to those twins."

The man—Spain—chuckled. "You'll thank me later, Prussia."

**-X-**

**A/n: **next up: more flashback, Tamaki-France interaction and comparison by Haruhi, something from Japan's POV (finally) and some Bad Touch Trio + Hitachiin Twins hijinks. Seriously guys, stay tuned. I'm on a roll now.

So, what do you think about this chapter? Anyone OOC? Stupid / confusing scenes / plot? If you guys have any suggestions about story, pairings, any characters from Ouran and Hetalia you wanted to interact, **just tell me**. Who do you think Honey and Mori should meet? Who should Haruhi end up with? I'm pretty open about Ouran and Hetalia pairings (except RoChu), so just tell me your favorite pairings :)

Thank you for **SalanTrong, iflywithbrokenwings, **and anon for telling me where Disneyland is. **NiNiChan13 **had suggested DC and **fangirl1313 **gave a very thorough info for many states (thanks!), but since there's the Disneyland thing, I'll go with LA :).

Reviews, alerts and favorites are wonderful things :)


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